Diana Palmer - Wyoming Bold

“That would be very nice,” Merissa said.

“Come with me,” Morie invited, smiling.

Merissa smiled at Tank and went to join the other woman in the kitchen.

“You can be in charge of mugs.” Morie laughed. “They’re in the cupboard, there.”

Merissa went to get them. They were thick white mugs. She looked at them with surprise. The Kirk ranch was massive. She expected bone china, at the least.

Morie saw her expression and grinned. “We don’t use the good china except at Christmas dinner,” she confessed. “Nobody likes hand washing every single piece of it, you see. Those—” she indicated the mugs “—go very nicely into the dishwasher and never crack.”

“You aren’t what I expected,” Merissa confessed shyly. “I mean, I knew Bolinda from when I was very young, and she was always kind. But people say you’re from a very powerful ranching family in Texas. I thought...”

Morie put an arm around her shoulders impulsively and hugged her. “We’re just people,” she pointed out. “My dad’s just as much at home in a dented pickup with torn seats as he is in a Jaguar. He and my mother raised my brother and me not to be snobs,” she added with a chuckle.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Merissa said softly, and smiled.

“I know.” Morie sliced pound cake and put it on a platter. She glanced at Merissa. “We all know what happened over at your place. I’m so sorry. Just before Christmas, too.”

“I still don’t understand why the man would do something so horrible. He sent my father to terrorize us.” She closed her eyes and shivered delicately. “You have no idea what he did to us, to my mother and me, before Dalton came and the others came and rescued us. He said he was going to kill me....”

Morie hugged her close and rocked her. “It’s all right. He’ll never hurt you again.”

She shivered. “The man shot him dead, right in our backyard.” She pulled away and wiped at her eyes with a paper towel Morie passed to her. “Why kill him?”

“Apparently he’d served his purpose,” the older woman said quietly. “Or some purpose that only he knew. People like that aren’t quite sane, I think.”

Merissa nodded. “He’s dangerous. The most dangerous person I’ve ever heard of. He said he’d be listening, and if I told Dalton anything else about him he’d kill Mama.”

Morie grimaced. “If it helps, these things do finally get resolved. One way or another.” Her eyes were sad. “You heard about Joe Bascomb, didn’t you?”

“Everybody did,” the other woman said. “It was so brave of you, going out to find Mallory after Bascomb had kidnapped him and left him to die. He could have killed you.”

“I knew that,” Morie said. “But I would have had no life without Mallory.”

It was said in a matter-of-fact way. Merissa saw the love in the other woman’s eyes for her husband as she glanced through the doorway of the kitchen past the dining room into the living room beyond, where Mallory was sprawled on the carpet with their son.

She looked back at Merissa. “You would have done the same, if it had been Tank,” she said perceptively.

“Of course,” Merissa said without a pause. She drew in a breath. “He’s my whole world now. I can’t imagine life without him in it.”

Morie smiled. “You won’t have to, from what I’ve seen,” she told her. “You watch, he’ll come through that door any minute. He can’t stand to be away from you. He’s been mooning around here all day trying to find an excuse to go and see about you... See?” she whispered.

Tank appeared in the doorway, hands in his jean pockets, eyebrows raised. “Are we ever going to get coffee, you think?” he mused.

The women laughed.

“We’re putting it on the tray now, with cake,” Morie said. “Want to carry it in for us?”

He grinned. “My pleasure.” He glanced at Merissa with a look in his eyes that made her just melt.

He put the tray down on the coffee table and drew Merissa to his side on the sofa.

“I like mine black,” he told her. He smiled.

She laughed. “I like mine with cream and sugar.”

“It doesn’t matter. You like ‘Send in the Clowns,’” he teased. “We’ll find other things in common, too.”

“Yes.” She leaned over to pour the coffee for him.

ALL TOO SOON, she had to leave. Tank drove her back to her home, but he stopped a little way from the cabin, put the truck out of gear and removed their seat belts. While she was wondering why, he pulled her across his lap and kissed her with a starving passion.

She reacted to it at once, her arms around his neck, her body straining to get as close to him as she possibly could.

His hand went under her blouse, searching for soft flesh to explore. His mouth teased around her lips until he roused her. The kiss was deeper, slower, hungrier than any they’d shared before. He groaned.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling his anguish.

“We should get married,” he blurted out.

MERISSA DREW BACK from him with a faint gasp. “What?” she stammered.

He ground his teeth together. She looked so shocked that he was embarrassed, and suddenly his confidence about her feelings for him took a nosedive. The set of rings in his pocket was burning a hole in the material of his coat now. “I didn’t mean to say that,” he lied. “I’m sorry. I got in over my head a little too quickly.”

“It’s...all right,” she said, moving away from him, back to her own seat. She fastened her seat belt for something to do. “No harm.” She tried to smile. For an instant she’d thought he meant it, and her heart sailed up into the sky. Now he was busy backtracking.

“I’m really sorry...”

“Oh, you don’t have to apologize,” she assured him urgently. “I know men sometimes say things they don’t mean when they, well, you know.” She flushed. He seemed really regretful about what he’d said. She only wanted to ease the embarrassment. “I’m not ready to get married, anyway,” she lied. “So it’s fine. Really.”

He didn’t look reassured. In fact, he looked puzzled and then almost offended. He put his own seat belt back on, put the truck in gear and drove up to her porch.

He cut off the engine. “I’ll walk you inside,” he said quietly. “I want to make sure Carson’s here.”

“Okay.”

They moved into the house in silence, not touching, not speaking. Merissa was concerned. He must be terribly embarrassed to have blurted out such a compromising proposal. He had been vague about the future, but he’d never said anything about marriage. She was crazy about him, and he seemed to have feelings for her. But it was one thing to feel passion for someone, quite another to consider spending the rest of your life with her. She wanted Tank to be sure. And she wanted a proposal that came when he wasn’t out of his mind with desire.

So she didn’t say anything about their former conversation.

“I’m home,” Merissa called.

Clara came out of the kitchen. “So I see. Hello, Dalton,” she greeted with a smile.

He nodded, but he didn’t smile. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” he told the women. “I’ll check back tomorrow. Have a good night.”

He left without even looking at Merissa.

“What happened?” Clara asked worriedly.

Merissa drew in a breath. “I’m not sure. And I can’t talk about it right now,” she added gently. “I’m sorry.”

Clara hugged her. “Have a nice cup of hot chocolate while I peel potatoes for supper. Carson’s outside working on some project of his. He won’t tell me what it is.”

“Is he near the house?” Merissa asked, curious.

“Not really,” her mother said. “He was going to start putting up surveillance devices at the boundaries of the property. Why?”

“I just wondered.” She had an uneasy feeling, but she didn’t want to put it into words. She drew in a long breath and rubbed her temple.

“Not another headache?” her mother asked worriedly.

“No,” she said. “Well, not yet, anyway.”

“You do know where you left your prescription medicine?”

“Of course,” Merissa said, and smiled wanly. “It’s in my bedside table, where I always keep it.” She cocked her head. “You think I’ll get one, don’t you?”

Her mother was noncommittal. “You look worried and Dalton looked, I don’t know, upset.”

Merissa averted her eyes. “We had a little...misunderstanding.”

Clara patted her shoulder affectionately. “It’s early days yet,” she said gently. “You don’t really know each other. Time will take care of that.”

Merissa shrugged. “I hope so.”

“Things are usually a little rocky at first. But he’s very fond of you. He doesn’t make any secret of it.”

Merissa nodded. She glanced at her mother. Clara had made her a cup of hot chocolate. She put it in front of her at the table. She poured potatoes into a big bowl, got a knife and sat down to peel them.

“It takes time for people to grow together and trust one another,” she told Merissa. “He’s been alone for a long time.”

“He’s very rich,” Merissa said through her teeth.

“And you think he’ll consider you a gold digger—is that a proper modern word?” Clara laughed. “You’re the least mercenary person I’ve ever known.”

“Still, it’s a very different lifestyle than ours.”

“He’s a rancher. He loves animals. He loves the land. He’s like us. So are his brothers and their wives.”

Merissa made a face. She sipped the hot chocolate and sighed with pure contentment. “Nobody makes this like you do.”

“Thank you, dear.” She was quiet.

“You’re thinking about my father, aren’t you?” she asked.